And We Are All Together
by EasyButton
Summary: When Fred died, his soul went into George's body. Problem is, no one will belive them. And what's with all the rouge Death Eater sightings?
1. Chapter 1

**Hey! This is my first story written for this site, so it would be really great if you could give me some constructive criticism. If you want, you can look on my profile and check out my other story, Confessions Of A Big Bad Wolf. I wrote this story because I love the Twins and hate the idea of them being separated. Updates will hopefully be frequent. In case your wondering, the title comes from the first line of the Beatles I Am The Walrus. I am he/as you are he/as you are me/and we are all together. Enjoy!**

**~EasyButton**

* * *

"_Stupif_y!" yelled George and the Death Eater in front of him went down in a flash of red light.

"How many was that, then?" asked Lee, wiping sweat from his forehead.

"Ten, by my last count." replied George with his trademark grin. "_Stupify!_ Make that eleven."

"That's pretty good," said Lee, "but I've got twelve so far."

"Liar!" smirked George. "You've only gotten about sev-ah!" Pain exploded along George's legs and back, and he felt himself falling.

"You okay, mate?" Asked Lee worriedly, and George realised that he was lying on the ground, staring up into his friends scared face.

"Yeah," said George, wincing as he got off the ground. "I must have gotten hit with something, that's all." But George was no longer smiling. "Look, Lee, I've got to find Fred."

"Why?" asked Lee. "Is something the matter?"

"I don't know." replied George nervously. "It's just a feeling."

"Oh. What kind of feeling?" asked Lee a moment later.

"Well that's just it!" said George, starting to sound frantic. "I can't feel anything!" With that, George started running down the hallway, desperate to find the link that he could usually feel with his twin. Suddenly, everything started to blur. George couldn't think, couldn't move, couldn't breath, even. His head was being constricted and exploded all at once. He felt that he should put his hands to his head, to stop pieces of his skull coming off, but he couldn't feel his arms. The only thing that he could feel was the pain. Then, just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped.

George got up, gasping, and almost fell over. "What just happened?" asked Lee. "Come on, George. That one wasn't a stray curse. There's no one else along this stretch of hallway. I'm taking you to the Great Hall."

"No!" gasped George. "Gotta…find…Fred!"

"No way mate." said Lee firmly. "You're in no shape to do much of anything right now. You should see yourself in a mirror. You look terrible."

"I'll be able to do that when I see Fred!" George half-joked, but the joke sounded hollow and strange, even to his ears…ear.

Lee half led, half dragged George through minor hallways and secret passages in order to reach the Great Hall without running into any Death Eaters. When they opened the doors and went inside, George had to stifle a gasp. The carnage was terrible. Bodies lined the floor, many of which George recognised.

There was sixteen year old Colin Creevy, the annoying little kid that followed Harry around with a camera. But, thought George with a pang, he was always one of the first willing to help test the Twins new products.

Lee had to blink away tears when he saw Lupin and Tonks, side by side, peacefully in death. He noticed with sadness how Tonks had died with her hair her favourite shade of bubblegum pink. Near the back of the hall was a crowd of red haired people, all leaning over one body.

Oh god, thought George, please don't let it be Mum or Dad. But he saw his parents; his dad standing there with his head in his hands, his mum sobbing hysterically over what George realised must be the remains of one of his siblings. Was it Ginny? Had she ventured from the room of requirement to fight? No, Ginny was there, her head buried in Charlie's chest. George quickly looked to see who else was there. Bill was standing next to Fleur, gripping her tightly. Percy was half kneeling on the floor, face stark white, glasses in hand. The only two missing were Fred…and Ron.

"_No no no no no_!" was the only thing running through George's head as he stumbled towards his family. His little brother was dead. What had George told Ron before the battle? Had he said anything at all? He couldn't remember.

Charlie gently pushed Ginny away and walked up to George and Lee. "George," he said, laying his hand on his brother's shoulder, "I'm so sorry…"

"Ron…" George choked out, and Charlie's face turned grey.

"No," he whispered. "Not Ron."

"But who then?" asked George, confused. A small part of him seemed to already know the answer, and he felt himself going numb. Out of the corner of his eye, George saw understanding wash over Lee's face, as he began to shake uncontrollably. His mum tried to pull him into a hug, but George pushed past her and sank down by the body of his dead twin.

"_Fred!"_ he whispered in disbelief. But in a moment, disbelief gave way to anger, and he growled "How could you _do_ this to me?"

"_Well you know mate,_" he heard Fred say from somewhere near him, "_it wasn't exactly my decision._"

George stared intently into Fred's unmoving face. "Fred?" he whispered quizzically.

"A wall exploded on him." Whispered Percy. "I couldn't do anything, I swear! It completely crushed his-"

"His legs and back, I know." Replied George distractedly. 'Fred? Please answer me!"

"_There's no use talking to the body, you know._" Said Fred. "_It's not me._"

"What?"

"_Well, it is me, or it was me at any rate._" Replied Fred thoughtfully. _"But now it's just a body. An exceptionally handsome body, I might add. I always was the better looking twin."_

"_What the bloody hell's going on?" _Thought George. "_Am I going crazy?"_

"_Dumbledore thought you might react like this."_ Remarked Fred. _"He said that it might be easier if I explained things in front of a mirror."_

"Dumbledore's dead." Said George slowly, gaining him some worried looks from his family, who were all crowding around, watching him anxiously.

"_Well, if you want to get all technical about it," _said Fred cheerfully, "_so am I. Or, I was. It's pretty confusing, mate. But anyways, I'm not dead anymore."_

"So where _are _you?" demanded George, frustrated.

"_You haven't figured it out yet?"_ asked Fred, delighted. _"I'm in you!" _

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**Hey! I hope you liked the first chapter. Chapter two will be Freds' POV of what happened after he died. Remember to review!**

**~EasyButton**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey! Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed. I don't think that this chapter is quite as good as the last one, just because it's _really _hard to write a serious Fred. But I feel like this is mostly an informational chapter, and I'm pretty sure that I get across everything that I needed to say. Next chapter should have more of a story. Also, I didn't plan this story to be humorous, but with Fred and George, how could it _not _be? For example, I'm thinking of a subplot where the twins are sent to a psychiatrist who thinks that George has multiple personality disorder. I'd love to hear your thoughts on that. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter, a new one should be up soon!**

**~EasyButton **

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"You actually _are_joking, Perce!" laughed Fred. "I don't think that I've heard you joke since you were-"

The air exploded. Fred felt a flash of pain along the bottom half of his body, and then it was gone so fast that he didn't even have time to change his expression.

Cautiously, Fred got up and opened his eyes. He blinked a couple times, unable to believe what he was seeing. "Diagon Ally?" he murmured. "How did I get here? Percy? Ron? Harry? Hermione?_ Anyone?_"

Fred began walking. It did indeed look as though he were in Diagon Ally, though it was not the place he remembered from his last visit. Gone were the collapsed buildings, the soot and the ominous wanted posters. Instead, everything looked…peaceful. It was the time of day that Fred liked best, in the morning, right before he and George opened up shop.

"This place is creepy." He whispered to himself. "There's no birds, no sound, there isn't even any wind!"

Instinctively, Fred reached for his wand, only to find that it wasn't in his pocket as usual. Which, Fred figured was mostly due to the fact that _he wasn't wearing clothes!_ Just as Fred started to freak out about this latest development, he realised that he was in fact wearing clothes, his magenta work robes. His wand still wasn't there, though, he discovered a moment later.

"I wouldn't worry about the wand, Mr. Weasley." Said a soft voice from behind him. "I highly doubt that it would be much use here anyways."

"Professor Dumbledore?" asked Fred incredulously. "You're dead!"

"Well, yes," Dumbledore admitted, a familiar twinkle in his eye. "But then again, so are you."

"No." said Fred. "No, Professor, there must be some mistake. See, I was just fighting in the battle, there was an explosion and…and then I ended up here." Fred suddenly felt the need to sit down. "Oh, God, I'm dead!"

"Yes," said Dumbledore gravely. "I'm afraid so."

"So," said Fred, calming down somewhat, "Heaven looks like Diagon Ally?"

"Not exactly," replied Dumbledore. "This is simply an… in between place. It appears however the viewer expects it to look."

"Really." Mused Fred. "I wonder, is it going to look the same for George? I suppose I'll have to ask him when he gets here."

Dumbledore sighed, and suddenly looked very old. "I was hoping that you wouldn't ask that," he said, "as there really is no way to answer this. You see, your brother shouldn't be dying tonight, or any other night, for a very long time."

"No!" said Fred, feeling himself start to panic. "No. I mean, we're _twins_! We're meant to stay together. Bad thing happen to us when we don't. I mean, look what happened when we split up at the battle!"

"Yes," said Dumbledore, peering intently at Fred over his glasses, "which is why I am now going to present you with three options of what you can do now."

"Three options?" asked Fred, who was finding it hard to panic in a place that was just so damn _peaceful_. "Well, what are they?"

"Option one," said Dumbledore, "is to send a sort of imprint of you back to earth, as a ghost. You will not be able to pass on if you decide this."

Fred gave Dumbledore a look that clearly said Not Bloody Likely.

"Yes," Dumbledore said mildly, "I thought that you might feel this way. Option two is to pass on, to whatever comes after death."

"How would I do that, then?" asked Fred.

Dumbledore smiled. "Look at what's in front of you."

For the first time, Fred noticed that they were standing in front of his and George's shop. He had to admit, he thought, the place had never looked so good. The outside was freshly painted, there was a soft light coming from behind the display in the window, and…was he imagining it, or was that laughter he heard?

"All you have to do," said Dumbledore quietly, "is walk through that door."

There was silence for a moment. "What's the third option?" Fred finally asked.

Dumbledore straightened up, and regarded Fred seriously. Fred shivered unconsciously. He hated when people looked at him like that. Serious just wasn't in his nature.

"Twins," began Dumbledore softly, "especially identical ones, share a bond that no one, wizard or muggle fully understand. Muggles know it. They sense that there is a…closeness that twins share. But magical twins are special. Often, they can do things, feel things that no one else can."

'Yeah!" exclaimed Fred. "Me and George, I _know_ when he's hurt, or upset. It's the same for him. "

Dumbledore smiled. "Indeed. This connection manifests in many ways. You may not know this, but your uncles, Fabien and Gideon Prewitt, shared such a connection. You and your brother may know each other so well that you can finish each others thoughts, but these two could _read each others minds_."

"That's really interesting and all, Professor," said Fred slowly, "but what does this have to do with my third option?"

"I believe," said Dumbledore, "that I may be able to send you back on the strength of that connection."

"Send me back?" asked Fred sceptically. "What do you mean? No one can bring back the dead."

Dumbledore sighed. "Mr. Weasley, do you know why someone dies? The details of it?"

Fred shook his head.

"Someone dies when the body can no longer support the soul. The soul exits the body, and comes here. Once a soul has left a body, there is no re-entry." Dumbledore paused and looked at Fred, and, satisfied that he was following, continued.

"You and your brother are so alike that I believe that I may be able to send you back, but in his body."

"You mean that George and I would be sharing a body? For the rest of our lives?"

"Yes." Said Dumbledore. "If everything goes as planned, that is exactly what will happen."

Fred crossed his arms. "And what happens if everything doesn't 'go as planned'? What happens to me then?"

"Then," said Dumbledore, "You are caught between this world and the next, as something less than a ghost, for eternity. But," he added, smiling slightly, "I am not often wrong, and I do believe that this will work."

Fred looked over at the shop, with its soft light and laughter. He turned towards Dumbledore, jaw clenched in determination. "I choose option three."

Dumbledore looked grave. "Very well." He said. "Let us begin."

Fred laughed sardonically. "_This_ is going to be fun explaining to George." He remarked.

"I believe a mirror might help explain things somewhat." Dumbledore replied mildly, and pushed Fred to the ground.

…And Fred was falling, falling, there was no end to it…

…And there was terrible pain, every part of him being stretched and squeezed all at once, and he wanted to scream, but he couldn't…

…And the pain stopped, and he got up off the ground, and he was saying something, but it wasn't him, really, and he felt himself walking, but it wasn't him in control…

…And…

…And…

* * *

"And that," finished Fred, "is pretty much what happened."

"Really?" asked George doubtfully. "I mean, no offence, but it seems kind of far fetched."

"Oy!" exclaimed Fred, in mock anger. "Are you calling me a liar?"

"Yes." Replied George, without missing a beat.

"Well, fair enough, I suppose. I am one." Fred stated cheerfully. "I'm telling the truth about this, though."

George shook his head. "This has easily got to be the most surreal day of my life."

"What?" asked Fred. "More surreal than the time we were testing out the daydream charm, thought that we were merpeople, and greeted Flitwick as King of the Garden Gnomes?"

George winced. "I'm still trying to forget that one, actually. But this is way more surreal. I mean, half an hour ago, I'm in a battle, fighting for my life, and now I'm sitting in the Room of Requirement talking to a mirror, where my reflection just happens to be my dead twin who talks back!"

Fred was silent for a moment. "You're right." He agreed. "That _is_ pretty surreal. So, how are you going to tell Mum that there are two of us in here?"

George paled. "Why me?" he asked. "You can talk through my, er, our mouth, right?"

"Well, yeah," admitted Fred, "but if I do it, Mum will think you're mad."

"She's going to think I'm mad, anyways. Everyone is, you realise that?"

"You _are _mad." Grinned Fred. "But its ok, so am I."

George groaned. "That's what worries me."

And with that, the twins went off to fight.

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**Know what's fun? Reviewing is fun!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey, sorry about the long wait. My computer got a virus and it took forever to get fixed. Anyways, Happy New Years, and enjoy chapter 3!**

**Disclaimer: I just realised that I forgot to do this before. Oops. I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, Fred wouldn't have died and Harry would be _way_less angsty. **

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"_Now."_ Pleaded Fred for the umpteenth time. "_We should tell them now."_

George sighed. _"How many times do I have to tell you? Now is probably the __**worst**__ time to tell them. The war just finished, emotions are running high, and all we would do is freak everyone out! We should wait until things are a bit…calmer."_

"_But…"_

"_No buts." _Replied George firmly. _"How about tomorrow? At the Burrow?"_

"_I'm dead tired of all this, you know." _Fred smirked, and George wished, not for the first time that night, that it was possible to give yourself a murderous glare.

"_Sorry, sorry." _Said Fred apologetically. _"I'm dead serious now, promise."_

"_Fred!"_

"_Fine, but it was better than your lame holey joke!"_

George put his head in his hands and groaned softly. He supposed that he could excuse Fred for refusing to take things seriously, he thought. Voldemort was finally dead, and the past few months of darkness, fear, and hiding was starting to seem like a bad dream. Honestly, he told himself -and Fred- silently, there was nothing more he'd like to do than go out and celebrate, but what with their current situation, that just wasn't possible.

Fred shrugged his shoulders to show that he'd understood. He looked around the Great Hall to see who was there, and, more painfully, who wasn't.

He noticed his family seated silently a few feet away, and felt a pang of guilt that he realised was from George.

"_It's not like we could sit with them anyways."_ Fred told his brother. _"Not with them thinking I'm dead."_

He continued looking around the Great Hall. The most surprising people in attendance, he decided, were Draco and Narcissa Malfoy, who were standing near the doorway, looking ready to bolt at any second.

"_Lucius Malfoy escaped," _George answered Fred's unspoken question, _"along with about twenty other Death Eaters, including Greyback. I overheard Kingsley tell Dad." _He added, smugly.

"_Weird, isn't it," _mused Fred, _"that even though we're technically the same person, we can still notice different things?"_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_Well,"_ said Fred thoughtfully,_ "If, for example, I was saying something, could you decide to start walking?"_

"_So basically, what you're saying," _began George, _"is that our newfound, um, condition requires some…"_

"Experimentation." Finished Fred, gleefully, not noticing that he had begun to speak aloud.

"Do you think that classroom's still intact?" asked George doubtfully. "I mean, you've seen the damage around here."

"Are you kidding?" asked Fred confidently. "We put so many wards around that place to stop teachers finding our experiments that I doubt even You Know Who could get in!"

"Fine." Said George excitedly. "What are we waiting for?"

They got about halfway down the hall before they felt a hand clamp down on their shoulder.

"AHH!" Fred yelled, startled. He spun around to face his oldest brother, and immediately assumed his standard innocent expression.

"_You idiot!"_ hissed George silently, and immediately changed their expression to what he hoped was appropriately depressed.

"George, where are you going?" Bill asked, concerned.

"None of your business." George answered immediately, more out of habit than anything else.

"George," said Bill seriously, "I can't even imagine what kind of pain you must be feeling right now" -Fred snickered silently- "but the whole family's really worried about you. George… please don't do anything rash."

"Don't do anything…ooh."

For once, Fred and George were in perfect agreement of what facial expression to use, as they stared at their older brother in shocked silence.

Fred regained their voice first. "Don't worry Bill," he said in a tone that was oddly strained, "We, he, I…I'm not going to go _off myself!_"

"Promise?" asked Bill quietly.

George sighed. "I solemnly swear it. I just need to…go think."

Bill looked doubtful. "If you're sure. Just remember, things will look better tomorrow." He added in an unconvincing tone. He turned around and walked quickly back to the Great Hall, hands stuffed deep into his pockets.

"_Poor icky Georgiekins."_ laughed Fred. _"He got sad, so now he's going to kill himself!"_

"Shut up, Fred." George growled, walking faster so as not to be accosted by any more well meaning mourners.

"_**Now**__ do you want to tell them?" _Asked Fred hopefully a moment later.

"NO!"

* * *

It was a day and a half after the battle, and Arthur Weasley was worried. The whole family had suffered, Merlin knew _that, _but he had, somehow, assumed that George would be suffering more than anyone else.

He wasn't entirely sure what he expected one of his two middle children to do, whether it was to scream, or cry, or break things, or even go into denial, but it certainly wasn't this. George just _sat_ there, calmly, a blank expression on his face. Occasionally, emotion would flash across his features, as if someone - Arthur refused to let himself think the name Fred - had just told a joke, of said something annoying.

The whole process was rather unnerving, and the family, in their grief, had mostly avoided George, too busy wrestling with their own feelings to even begin to think of what to say. In fact, Arthur realised with a start, right now, dinner, was the first time George had even allowed someone to be in a room with him all day.

The entire Weasley family, as well as Harry and Hermione, who were practically family anyways, were sitting around the dining room table, not talking much, and eating even less.

"George, dear," began Molly hesitantly, "could you please pass the salt?"

"I'm not George, I'm Fred." His son replied absentmindedly as he handed over the salt shaker.

The only sound in the room was the clatter Ron's fork made as it fell to the floor.

"You idiot!" George seethed, the guilty expression on his face being replaced by one of rage. "I know it's a force of habit, but you should have been more careful!"

Molly gave a small gasp as she began to sob silently.

"George?" Arthur asked, afraid of the answer.

"Yes Dad?" George answered, resigned.

"So you _are _George, then?"

His son looked up at him, meeting his eyes for the first time since the battle.

"Yeah, Dad," he said quietly. "I'm both of us."

* * *

"I don't believe it!" exclaimed Fred for the umpteenth time. "They actually took us to St. Mungos! I don't believe it!"

"You know Fred, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that you didn't believe this." Remarked George lightly, reclining back in their chair in the examination room as the healer talked to their father in the hallway.

"Enough of this." Fred decided. The twins got up and put their ear to the crack in the door.

"-not a physical illness." the healer was saying. "Probably just shock from loosing his brother. It's not as uncommon as you might think, these delusions. They might go away on their own, with time, but they might not. If I were you, Mr. Weasley, I would set your son up with a physiatrist. We have some rather good ones here; if you want I can give you a reference."

"Will George be able to come home?" asked their father anxiously.

"As he does not appear to be a danger to himself or to others, I believe so." Replied the healer. "You need to fill out some paperwork, come right this way…"

Their voices faded to murmurs, and stopped entirely.

The twins cautiously opened the door and looked around. To their horror, in the next room over, was Rita Skeeter, scribbling away at a pad of paper, bandages on her arms, but a malicious smile on her face.

"Merlin's beard," whispered George "this is not good."

"I know!" Fred exclaimed, horrified. "What's Angelina going to think?"

"Angelina!" groaned George. "I'd forgotten all about her! Fred," he said, alarmed by what he was picking up on his twin's thoughts, "I don't care _how_ long you've been together, while we're sharing a body, you are going no further than eye contact!"

* * *

**And thus, Fred's girlfriend comes into play. By the way, if you need new year's resolutions, a good one is to _review_. Just a thought.**

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